


Take You Home

by ectoBisexual



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoBisexual/pseuds/ectoBisexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata Shouyou should not be allowed to drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take You Home

**Author's Note:**

> thank you again for the commission! enjoy yr fluffy kenhinas!
> 
> as always, commission info is here: http://cloverguts.tumblr.com/post/129385688821/andys-emergency-commissions-please-take-2

Hinata Shouyou should not be allowed to drink.

Not because he gets particularly rowdy or anything. He isn't even violent, or very obnoxious (at least no more so than usual, although Kenma has come to find that charming.) He doesn't turn into a sex maniac who's hell-bent on seducing Kenma in front of all of their friends, and despite his stature, Hinata is actually reasonably graceful in the art of holding his liquor.

No, it's none of those things that lead Kenma to believe that the redhead shouldn't be allowed within a thousand mile radius of alcohol.

It's the way he  _looks._

Presently Hinata simpers, shifting in his seat-- the bare backs of his thighs catching lewdly on the booth seat with a rubbery sound-- to look at Kenma, or rather: torture him. They've been at this bar for what feels like an eternity; Kenma is about ten seconds from faking a relapse in socially-induced panic attacks and sacrificing a further insurmountable number of months of nonconstructive therapy just to escape this hell.

"You've read that book, right, Kenma? Tell Tsukishima that the movie sucked."

Kenma, who is trying to internalise his painfully gay woes into a colourful drink, blinks emptily at his boyfriend's beaming face. Book-- shit, they're talking about a book, aren't they? Desperately he runs through the motions of retrieving discarded information from his stupid, inattentive brain. Paprika! That's right, he's meant to be tune into a conversation about Paprika, not fantasizing about getting his angelically tipsy-pretty boyfriend in bed.

"I wrote a paper on it," he answers from behind his glass, where it's safer. "Movies are very rarely better than the book."

"Yeah, but this one was _really_ bad," Hinata complains, and God hates Kenma and wants to punish him because Hinata's  _pouting._ The deep pink jut of his lip almost matches perfectly the flush on his cheeks, paled like strawberry juice as if swiped there by hand. Kenma knows the look of it, his blush, how it goes all the way down his chest when he's turned on.  _Jesus._ He takes another sip of his drink, annoyed with himself.

He's supposed to be the sensible one. That's his  _role_ in this relationship.

"You don't read, dumbass, how would you know?" Tsukishima counters. Hinata slams his fist down on the table, and then pats it better. He actually does this.

"Kenma read it to me! And I do so read, I read lots of things."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Like... um... volleyball books and stuff."

"Volleyball books. Of course you'd say volleyball books, because you're Hinata. Why do I even expect things from you?"

Kenma has gone back to staring at Hinata. His hair is all mussed, careless, because he's drinking. Kenma has by now memorised the way it sticks up when he cards his fingers through it, tugs to the root to pull those appreciative hums and sighs from Hinata when he's stubbornly trying to fit all of Kenma in his mouth. The first time they'd tried oral-- maybe a month or two into dating-- Hinata had been nervous, because Kenma was, as he quotes, "way too big", and Hinata had no dick to speak of for a fair comparison-- and anyway, Kenma was average sized and didn't mind the way his boyfriend looked with messy hair and hollowed cheekbones.

Presently this same person from the hottest memories reserved in Kenma's mind is cooing apologies to the table where he hit it, running his palm across the spotless wood.

"Trees have feelings, so I'm so sorry if I hurt yours. Shh, it's okay. There, there."

"It's dead. It's a dead tree. How drunk are you?" Tsukishima is trying to be mean, but he's grinning wickedly, that holier-than-thou expression he uses to cover up affection. Not very drunk is the answer, but Kenma figures that his boyfriend doesn't need to be answered for. His ridiculously endearing boyfriend, who is pressing his cheek to the cool mahogany with a hum of delight. There's that little side of him that sat teaching Kenma about "nature magick", too cute for his own good about the parts of this world reserved only for his bluebird heart and tittering sparrow fingertips. Hinata is the kind of person you can't help but want to protect because he still believes in magic and all the good of the world. 

Hinata rubs his face against the table again, parting his lips in a little 'O' as he sighs, and Kenma's blood drops straight south through his body.

"You were wrong about the movie, you're wrong about a  _table_ being able to understand you. Oh my God-- Shouyou, knock it off."

"Ah, you're just jealous because your boyfriend's gonna smell like cigarettes when he comes in and mine's. Right. Here." He punctuates the sentence with a kiss just below Kenma's pulse point that makes his stomach flutter.

This guy really has no idea what he's doing, Kenma thinks, bewildered.

"When we get home I'm gonna pin you to the bed and ride your brains out."

So maybe not so innocent after all, he reasons. Kenma dons an expert poker face and masks his blush behind the next sip of his drink.

"Yes," he says, "that sounds reasonable."

Hinata thunks his head down on the blonde's shoulder and cracks up. The motion makes them both sway a little, a casual buzz of tipsiness that Kenma wants to turn into worship for his boyfriend's body. Hinata's always so  _good,_ he takes  _care_ of Kenma, fucking him flat on his back when he needs it, or slipping two of Kenma's fingers into his own mouth while he lowers himself over the other's hips, the hot, wet slick of everything going to Kenma's head like a fever.

"You're such a bottom," Hinata had said last time, without intending to be mean or even teasing. He had simply looked in awe of Kenma, squirming beneath him and holding onto his hips for dear life. Like Kenma was a treasure. Like they both were.

Kuroo finally rejoins their group, sliding back into the booth and indeed reeking of smoke.

He shoves his tongue in Tsukishima's mouth the way you can only do when you're Kuroo Tetsurou and you've found the asshole you want to marry and give the world to, and Kenma figures that this is an inappropriate time to leave.

"I called us a cab," Kuroo says in answer to Kenma's wordlessness. "I think I'm getting tired." It translates almost precisely to "let's go so I can get laid", in the Kenma/Kuroo language. There's this understanding between them, so that they don't have to communicate outright in uncomfortable (or, ahem, delicate) social situations, that they developed back in high school. They blink in morse code, almost.

"Tonight was fun," Kuroo says.  _I'm gonna throw my boyfriend up against a flat surface._

"Yeah, this place is good."  _Too much information, but me too,  buddy._

Kenma exchanges a glance with him that reads in the language of everything they have been trying to say, verbatim.

The next thing he knows they're all being pulled from the bar like water, swaying back to a cab together. He watches the backs of his boyfriend's thighs as he walks, the gentle sway of them, tries to stay tuned in to Kuroo's rant. It's easier if he lets his own steps sway, if he pretends that the blush on his face is because of booze. It's easier if he pretends to be just as drunk as the rest of them.

Kenma's not drunk, but he's drunk enough to know without question that he wants Hinata.

He's drunk enough to know that he doesn't mind _where_ he gets to kiss and touch his boyfriend, as long as he gets to kiss and touch him. It takes approximately all of his strength not to climb into the redhead's lap in the cab, his better judgement whispering that he probably shouldn't. That's the thing about drinking, he thinks; it isn't good for either of them. His morals get buried beneath a layer of instinct, wanting only to feel good and make Hinata feel good. But god, is making Hinata feel good the ultimate power trip.

The entire cab ride back Kenma spends pacing inside of his mind. Kuroo is trying to keep up drunken conversation with the cab driver, something about some movie that Kenma isn't even trying to pretend he's listening to. There's Tsukishima, smiling into the heel of his hand and staring out the window. There's that-- he could focus on that, if he wanted-- but then again, there's Hinata, and what better to occupy his time thinking about?

Hinata's hand rests on his knee innocently. Kenma waits, pulling in breaths. He feels his boyfriend's fingers inch up, just barely brushing his thigh. Hinata turns to stare at him through the corner of his eye, the forest of his lashes, and smiles innocuously. "Kenma, you look totally flushed."

"Do I," he deadpans. He can hear his own heartbeat. 

"Yeah! Maybe you drank too much? Ah... I guess I'm just gonna have to put you to bed when we get home, huh?  _Tsk._ " He draws out the noise, leaning in dangerously close so that it echoes just shy of Kenma's ear lobe; he feels Hinata's breath puffing out, and his own stutters. " _What am I gonna do with you?_ "

Kenma counts the exact number of seconds it takes them to get home.

He doesn't remember if he says goodbye to Kuroo and Tsukishima or not. Probably the latter. One minute he's glaring at the sway of Hinata's hips in the dark, the slow walk up to their house-- they've got  _neighbours_ for Christ's sake, surely one of them is going to notice that Hinata's outright  _courting him_ \-- and the next they're inside and he's slamming the shorter up against a wall.

"Wow," Hinata laughs, when Kenma's done huffing into the collar of his shirt. He feels the other's arms smooth up the length of his arms, soothing Kenma immediately. He pulls back to stare at Hinata. They stand in the low light of the hallway, heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. "Your pupils are, like,  _wow,_ Kenma."

"Want you," he mumbles, and pushes his head back into Hinata's neck. He's not usually violent or forceful or dominant at all (despite Hinata's prompting; that's usually his thing) but doesn't have the presence of mind currently to feel bad about the way he pushed the other against the wall, fingers already opening and closing restlessly. But he waits. He waits, his entire body feeling like it's made of coiled and compressed energy.

"Alright," Hinata sighs eventually, sounding almost bored. "You can take me to the bedroom."

Kenma does so immediately. It's kind of funny, the way Hinata's smiling impishly. He looks like he's won something already, which, if Kenma were being honest with himself, he knows he  _has_. Everything feels like melting and freezing. He can't get a grip on what's happening and what isn't. That, he thinks, is what makes Hinata so smug.

Kenma's intelligent. Hinata is the only one who can do this to him.

"The flush in your cheeks," Kenma grits out, swallowing his pride. Hinata hesitates in the doorway to their bedroom and looks at him. "It was... really pretty."

Hinata almost laughs. He tries to play it off like he's just smiling at the last second, huffing out an amused breath, doing it again when he sees the look on Kenma's face. Then they both stare for a moment, as if both taking the other in. "Come here," Hinata says.

Kenma does.

They kiss in the doorway of their room for a while, the heat and blush of Hinata's cheeks worming its way down to both of their chests. Kenma can taste the alcohol on him still; sweet, fruity, just lingering on his tongue where the usual taste of him flavours. Kenma revels in the feel of it, Hinata's tongue, the occasional bump of teeth when one of them gets too excited. How long have they been dating, to still feel this way? Like there's a thrumming energy of peace to everything they do. Hinata is nothing but  _warmth._

"Okay," the redhead huffs out when he pulls back, looking shaken. Good. Kenma loves that. 

"Okay?" Kenma prompts. Kissing the underside of his chin. He's all smooth there, shaving even through hormone treatment when he grew facial hair like a fifteen year old. Kenma loves it. 

"Yeah," Hinata confirms, and pulls back again to stare at Kenma. He always stares like he really wants to be looking, not anywhere else, and his hands rest on Kenma's shoulders to steady them both. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Kenma agrees, without giving it a moment of second thought. He moves back in to kiss Hinata like he wants something from it. 

They move back onto the bed and Hinata rolls his hips sweetly, lovingly, up towards Kenma. The blonde lets out a shudder like a whole thunderstorm coming loose. 

"Cute," Hinata quips. Kenma's teeth snag on his bottom lip accidentally and their hips collide again.

"Your pants are gonna need to come off," Hinata gasps, when they've both calmed down from the sudden fit of shuddering and rubbing up against each other. They still act like teenagers, so desperate to touch each other, frantic like they'll have to stop if they don't soon. It's all that condensed energy in Hinata, Kenma thinks. Solar energy. The stuff is contagious, and it clouds Kenma's head even when he doesn't want it to, when he wants to go slow and take his time to wrap his head around the fact that Hinata is right here and he's all Kenma's. Keeping up with him is the best thing he's ever decided to do.

"Yours, too," Kenma says back, but Hinata is already moving off of him so to better angle his jeans down off of his hips. Kenma brings his hand down to cup his boyfriend through the material of his briefs, not surprised to find him already wet and gradually soaking through the fabric.

"Sh-shut up," Hinata stutters, like he already knows what Kenma was going to say. It's so endearingly obvious that he's trying to keep his breath even that Kenma can't help but press harder, fingers finding his clit, gentle pressure to avoid the uncomfortable friction of fabric. He knows exactly how to touch Hinata to make him come undone, they both know; Hinata outright shudders and moans against him, pressing his head into the juncture of Kenma's shoulder.

"I didn't say anything," he says measuredly, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. He presses again and Hinata's hips jump into his palm, a frustrated groan spilling from his lips.

"You didn't have to, I saw your face! Anyway, you can't talk..."

"Can't I?"

" _No._ The whole time at the bar, you looked like you wanted to jump me. It was super gay, y'know."

Kenma huffs a laugh into Hinata's hair. He works him slowly with his hand while he speaks, not hard enough to get him anywhere, just enough to tease. "I think you're misreading."

"No way, you totally were!"

"Alright." Kenma moves back so that Hinata knows to look at him, holding his gaze. Static, comfortable, the only eyes he can stare into without getting sea-sick. "I was. You're right. What are you gonna do about it?"

Hinata's eyes darken, which is just what Kenma was hoping for. The next thing he knows he's being pressed back against the bed, straddled and kissed hungrily, the weight of all the planets spilling from Hinata's lips and onto his and forcing his eyes shut and his hands to tangle in the other's hair. His heart thumps unevenly in his chest. Hinata pulls back to stare at him, pupils blown, cheeks flushed pink, lips deliciously swollen and red and begging to be kissed more.

"I wanna sit on your face," he says.

Kenma stares at him for a second and says nothing. Then, the embarrassment catches up, and his hands fly to cover his face. "Oh my God," he says.

"Kenma? Can I?"

"Oh my  _God,_ " he repeats, the words barely squeaked out this time. If he peaks through his fingers at Hinata he'll lose it, he just knows it. When he does it anyway, it's to find his boyfriend peering down at him with concern and want. Biting his lip. Kenma's toes go numb. 

He nods, the barest of movements. The smile that washes over Hinata's face is blinding. 

Kenma allows himself to be moved back against the pillows, head finding purchase in them and shifting so that he's more comfortable. His stomach clenches in anticipation when he sees Hinata, hips moving to worm himself out of his underwear, tongue poked out between his teeth like he's concentrating. He's gonna kill Kenma one day. That face of Hinata's is going to obliterate him.

"Shirt," Hinata says suddenly, as if only just remembering. "Take your shirt off, Kenma."

Kenma does. He used to be self conscious about it, feeling too soft, too round, and memories of Hinata's hands on him spring to life like little flames. Hinata's soothing mouth, lips dragging over Kenma's side while he whispered.  _So beautiful. How am I so lucky?_ Hinata drags a hand up the same side now, pulling Kenma from the memory. Their lips meet and they kiss for a while like that, forgetting the other task at hand.

Hinata pulls away so suddenly that Kenma feels cold. It doesn't last for long, though, as Hinata immediately starts to climb up the others body. That's it. There it goes. Kenma's soul, evaporating his body. Grinning confidently, hips shaking in nervous anticipation, Hinata works his hips up so that they're hovering just above Kenma's collarbones, and hesitantly places himself down.

His thighs are trembling. Cute. Kenma shuts his eyes and pulls his boyfriend in by the lower back, reveling in the gasp that spills from his lips. The gasp that turns into a moan as soon as Kenma's mouth is on him.

Eating Hinata out is pretty much his favourite thing to do. He loves listening to him, the little tinny gasps and moans and mewls, sounds like he can't believe it. He always starts talking when he's close, babbling, and by then he can't stop his hips from moving. Kenma always lets him set the pace. It's way better that way, anyway.

He must have been worked up before, because it doesn't take him as long as it usually does. Kenma holds him in place by the backs of his thighs when Hinata starts to pick up the pace, words and endearments and praise spilling from his lips like seawater, hips rolling like he couldn't stop them if he tried. He comes with a half-finished gasp that might have been intended as Kenma's name.

Kenma helps him down when he finally stops shaking. Hinata is spent, rolling into the touch without any of the normal electric hyperactivity that takes over his body. Like springs coiled loose he sinks into the warmth of Kenma's body, breathing in slow sighs and coming down from the high. It takes him a minute to recover. Kenma doesn't mind at all. Getting to hold that boy in his arms, warm and pliant and soft and something so tender and precious, makes him feel like the most important person in the world.

"Give me a minute," Hinata slurs eventually, voice weak. Kenma bursts out laughing into his hair. It's so rare that he actually gets to laugh like this, to feel like the happiness is pouring through his chest unwillingly, and he feels Hinata smile at it, lips curving up in a soft gesture against Kenma's chest. 

"Take all the time you want," he murmurs back, and everything feels at peace.

"...I'm gonna ride the hell out of you when I can move again."

Kenma meant what he said. Hinata Shouyou should  _never_ be allowed to drink.


End file.
